The Ball
by MandyJane
Summary: The excitement ripples through the school, in schoolgirl whispers and awkward questions. They begin to dream of dresses, flowers and boys, delightful dizzying dances and snatched silent moments during the evening. Oneshot about the Yule Ball, pure fluff!


**A/N - This is a piece I wrote a while ago, and I really hope you like it :) I spent a long time searching for the right words, because there's no real way to capture that awesome, fluttery feeling you get in situations like this, but hopefully your imagination will help with that! Enjoy,**

The Ball

It starts with dreams, because there's always something special about parties like this, where everyone is invited for a common cause. The excitement ripples through the school, in schoolgirl whispers and awkward questions. From the second it is announced, the girls begin to dream of dresses, flowers and boys, delightful dizzying dances and snatched silent moments during the evening. The boys seem far less excited, more worried about the prospect of dancing than excited, but there are always a few who look forward to it, to being able to ask that special girl to go with them with less chance of embarrassment. They can always claim they felt sorry for her, right? And if she says yes, then they're sorted for the evening. Some of the girls can hardly breathe from anticipation when _that_ boy comes up to them on the staircase, or catches them after lessons. There's always that wonderful lurch in their stomach, the fluttering heartbeat and strange, unbelievable weakening in their legs.

And then, as the dance gets closer and closer, the atmosphere permeates the castle even more strongly, and no-one really pays attention in lessons. Even the teachers are distracted, and rumours spread that someone saw Professor Flitwick waltzing in the fourth floor corridor, or that Professor Sprout is growing a dress in her greenhouses. Glances laden with anticipation and excitement are exchanged between partners, and whispered promises are the order of the day. All communication is dissected ruthlessly afterwards in the girls dormitories, with many squeals and blushes, while the boys feign (or perhaps they do know?) ignorance of it all.

Many a happy hour is spent in dress shops for half the population of Hogwarts; glorious time wasted in trying on confections of silk and lace and velvet, explosions of soft tulle and bright ribbons to make skin glow and eyes sparkle. Some girls dream of standing out in dresses spun from moonshine and promises, floating through the crowds as people stare in amazement, followed by a trail of stunned whispers. Some just want to dance in brightly coloured silks, spinning around and around in the arms of a laughing boy until they fall to the floor in delirious dizzy delight.

Then, when the night of the ball arrives, very few people are to be found at dinner. Perhaps a few green-faced boys, staring mournfully at the food but unable to take a single bite, but the hall is noticeably free of females. The dormitories are the centres of activity, mingling scents of perfume and heating hair with excited giggles and exclamations of happiness as last-minute notes arrive through the window. They fizz down the staircases to the dance, each one as mesmerising as the last, picking up their companions on the way to a night full of promises.

And it does not fail to disappoint; it starts with the same quiet, slightly awkward atmosphere that characterises a dance with teachers, but as more compliments fly and more bad jokes are cracked, the tension eases and the strained silence dissolves into loud laughs and louder music. The dance floor is filled with students, whirling around in swirls of bright colours, beaded slippers peeking out from silken skirts, boys mussing their robes in the movement. The food is exquisite, the music is ever-present and they feel young, beautiful, utterly perfect in this moment, as if a golden mist dances around the room, enveloping them in happiness for the night.

And as the evening draws on, excitements of a different nature are found. Hogwarts has no shortage of dark corners to flee to, after meaningful gazes and shy smiles become too coy even for the most timid of couples. Many girls are surprised by the sudden presence at their back of that boy, warm breath in their ear in a hopeful invitation for fresh air. They are led out of the room, giggling and rejoicing in the sensation of a strong arm at their back, of a trusted hand in their own. The alcoves and balconies of the castle are home to many a whispered confession, and many soft, shining eyes meet in silent demonstrations of happiness. The grounds are full of wandering couples, all oblivious to each other, wrapped up in the new future they have acquired for a few moments of paralysing fear that inevitably accompanies declarations of love. The boys are stunned, triumphant and suddenly confident, seeming to grow taller with every shy kiss. The girls are veritably fizzing with delight, revelling in the unimaginable sweetness of first loves even as they anticipate discussing it with their best friends later on, in the safe darkness that hides all blushes and encourages confidences.

And when they have all left, falling back to their beds in the wonderful exhaustion brought on from sore feet and over-exercised emotions, the hall is left empty, lit only by candles sitting on the tables. Abandoned shoes are scattered by the walls, and more than a few earrings are found by morning. The hallways are quiet enough, with only the occasional giggle or gasp as a secret is revealed or a goodbye is given. The night ends in the dormitories, where hopes are shared without compunction, and the girls share the terrible, wonderful details of their nights. They never tell it all, though. Even the closest of friends squirrel away a couple of things just for themselves, treasures to be taken out in private moments to smile over, shiver over, those few details that make every girl want to sing with happiness all over again. And there are so many: the unexpected depth of colour in his eyes, the delicious closeness of the dance, the way he held her close in the cold air, that meltingly perfect goodbye.

So the night ends in dreams, as it began. The castle is silent, and already the memory of the evening is taking on the golden tinge of pure joy as the students sink into delicious oblivion, full of starlight and hopes.

**Please review! 3**


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